Marc's Revelation - Henderson's Boys Post-Scorched Earth
by HarriHito
Summary: Set one day after the events at the end of "Scorched Earth", this is a piece about Marc Kilgour's internal thoughts and emotions regarding the war and how it has changed him.


**Marc's Revelation**

**These events take place one day after the events at the end of "Scorched Earth"**

It was a beautiful day. The summer had bought with it dry heat and sunshine, both entities that 16 year-old Marc Kilgour felt on his back as his arms shook violently and he pumped the peddles of the rusting bicycle beneath him, to force it up a poorly maintained, cobbled hill out of the Paris suburb he and Henderson's crew had been living in these past 8 weeks. Marc was in high spirits, just yesterday the Free-French Army had liberated Paris after several long years under Nazi-German occupation and himself and his friends had spent a happy summer's eve rejoicing in their cities new found freedom – they all hoped the rest of France would soon follow suit. However, today he had even further cause for elation; Henderson had granted him permission to visit Beauvais – and more precisely, his girlfriend, Jae. Marc wasted no time and had barely passed the words "Thank you, Sir!" from between his lips before he ran out the door of their cramped, top-floor apartment; tore down several flights of stairs and grabbed the first bicycle he lay eyes upon.

Marc felt the happiest he had in a long time: Paris was liberated, his mission was complete, and he was sure the war would soon be over. In addition to this, he would soon be wrapped in the arms of the girl he loved more than anything in the world. As he free-wheeled down the gentle gradient on the opposite side of the hill Marc spotted an American Jeep with just three wheels and a small crowd of US Soldiers grouped around the bonnet. Upon closer inspection Marc saw the Americans were gathered around four German Infantry-men whom had their hands in the air and were down on their knees; clearly they had tried ambushing the Jeep but not succeeded, being easily overpowered by seven fresh-faced US Marines. When Marc rode passed he let out an elated shout

"VIVE LA FRANCE!" Marc screamed, flipping-off the Germans, much to the amusement of the young Americans whom saluted him as he peddled into the distance.

Six hours of the ride to Morel Farm remained ahead of him and with no company Marc's mind soon found itself wandering. Inevitably thoughts about the war began to invade his head and he thought about what the war had taken from him. Marc had been through an awful lot these past 4 years, things no boy should ever have to witness. Unfortunately, war did not seem to take age or innocence into account when wreaking its destructive power – few remained untouched by such evil and Marc was one of its victims.

Since his daring run away from the orphanage in which he grew up, Marc had journeyed to Paris where he met and assisted Commander Charles Henderson and became a British Intelligence Agent himself under the guidance of Henderson. He was one of the first agents recruited and trained in Henderson's group: Espionage Research Unit B. Since then Marc had trained rigorously and taken part in several undercover missions in occupied France. In his role as an agent Marc had participated and been a victim of countless crimes; been involved in bombing raids and shoot-outs and witnessed first-hand the horrors of war – images of mangled bodies and the smell of burnt flesh wormed their way to the forefront of Marc's mind and he hurriedly submerged them again. Moreover, Marc had also been taken prisoner by the Nazis and forced to work against his will for over a year, deep in German territory. During that time he had lived in squalor and been mercilessly beaten before escaping and subsequently being hunted across the entire German nation. As part of his missions, and also to survive, Marc had had to kill several people. Ending a life was no easily forgotten feat and Marc could recall the face of every person he had ever killed – he hoped no more would have to be added to this list.

As Marc unwillingly yet unstoppably delved further into the dark recesses of his subconscious he stumbled across the thing that hurt him most: His personal losses. The war had taken the lives of several people whom Marc was close to – Comrades, children alongside he spent the first 12 years of his life, the nuns who had raised him; and, most painfully, Rosie. Rosie was a good friend of Marc's – he had met Rosie and her younger brother, Paul, during his first journey through occupied France with Henderson, and the trio of children had become great friends and powerful comrades. Unfortunately, Rosie had not been as fortunate as her fellow agents in the field and whilst undercover on their most recent mission had fallen victim to a fatal shot through the head at the hands of a merciless Milice commander. Her untimely and tragic passing had shocked everyone, but it also made them each more determined than ever before to win the war and have it over with. Marc remembered Rosie with fond memories and a special place in his heart. And in this moment he looked to the heavens and promised himself that should he ever have a daughter he would name her 'Rosie' in memory; and when she was old enough, would explain to his daughter how she was named after the bravest girl he ever knew.

But perhaps Marc's most devastating loss was the loss of himself. The war had taken parts of him which he could never regain. His childhood and his innocence. Childhood, the time that should be the happiest and most carefree time in a man's life, had been ripped from him far too early. As had his innocence – Marc had been thrown into a world of corruption, danger, torture and death from an early age. This was a world that had driven him to kill people, and his own innocence in the process. Each kill had been necessary, but that hadn't meant he had liked doing it. These losses were something Marc understood, yet had particular trouble dealing with and when his body started to shake he was forced to stop thinking about them.

"This isn't the time." Marc muttered to himself as he stepped off his bike to walk it through an unkempt field of waist high, wild flowers.

The beauty of the scenery around him gave Marc reason to smile and when he sighted the town of Beauvais in the distance he found a second wind and was lifted from his depression to a place of greater moral and kinder thoughts. On the other side of the field he found a path worked into the grass by frequent use, set down his bicycle and continued his journey.

Whilst cycling through a wooded glen Marc pondered a rather unorthodox, yet more positive subject. And although there was no doubt in his mind that the war had been bad, he could not help but think of all that the war had given him. Marc immediately thought of Jae, and his raw mind was comforted by memories of her; her beautiful face, her gorgeous smell, her soft lips, the many happy evenings they spent together by the lake on her farmland, and of course the breath-taking, testosterone-inducing image of her naked body and memories of her warm, silky skin against his own. Marc became giddy at the thought and had to steady his bicycle for a lapse in concentration had caused him to lose his balance.

Once back on the bike he thought about Henderson, a man whom without the war bringing them together Marc would have never met. At first Charles had been a Knight in shining armour to young Marc, bursting in and saving him before taking him along on several adventures. As Marc grew older he had noticed the flaws in Henderson's character but, more importantly, accepted them – "Not everyone is perfect." thought Marc – and now, a few years down the line, on this country road, he had come to realise exactly who Henderson was to him: A father. And Henderson had also bought to Marc a family and friends of his very own in the form of Espionage Research Unit B. Being an orphan Marc had always craved a Father, a Mother and family of his own and now he had come to realise that he was already part of one – it wasn't perfect, but then neither was he, and the love they all shared was what really counted.

A solitary tear rolled down each of Marc's cheeks and he couldn't help but think they were somewhat symbolic. On his left cheek – the side with which he shot – was a tear of grief and sadness; he cried for Rosie and the horrors the war had bought upon him and his family. Whereas on the right cheek – the side on which a dimple appeared when he smiled – was a tear of happiness and joy; he cried for what he had to live for and what he had been given, he cried for his family and for Jae and for the happiness they gave him.

Once more Marc thought of Rosie, Paul, PT, Sam and Joel, Superintendent McAfferty, Henderson and -somewhat reluctantly – Luc. He smiled to himself as he thought of his family and all they had been through together and then, as Marc rode down the dusty path that lead to Morel Farm, he had what he would later recall as a revelation - Although most of his physical scars had healed, he knew there were several mental wounds that would remain – he could cover them over, like a curtain does a window; but deep down Marc knew that the slightest breeze would ruffle the curtain and cause everything to pour back in. And whilst his past memories may be riddled with pain and may not have been entirely his, he still had his future ahead of him; a lifetime to fill with memories and to be happy. Marc had a life to live, for himself and for his family, and he was determined to live it. What's more, Marc knew he had found the one person with whom he was going to spend it; and who, somehow, made all of his pain worthwhile.

"Hello Beautiful!" whispered Marc as he pulled Jae into his arms.


End file.
